The Luckiest
by soundslikepeanuts
Summary: Courfeyrac never gets anything right the first time, but he keeps trying. M for swears and smut in later chapters.
1. Attempt 1

**Hello friends**

**me again**

**Departure from my usual, I know, but I watched About Time today and couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here I am at 7am having written it in one sitting. Really good for my revision...**

**Anyway. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

ATTEMPT #1

Courfeyrac walked, exhausted, out of class, head reeling from the seemingly endless barrage of information the lecturer had been throwing at them for the past hour. Running one hand through his wild dark curls, he hoisted his bag higher onto his shoulder with the other as he made his way down the corridor and out into the quad. It was a cloudy, grey day in Paris, with the sort of constant drizzle which soaks you through instantly. He inwardly cursed himself for forgetting his coat.

It was then that he spotted her; long wavy tendrils of her brunette hair flapping behind her in the wind as she walked briskly across the quad. She must be freezing, with black skinny jeans and grey hoodie as her only protection against the weather. Arms folded, her books were clutched closely to her chest. His heart leapt and, suddenly cheerful, he jogged after her to catch up. "Hey! Hey Éponine!"

She ignored him, until he caught up to be walking alongside her, and she glanced sideways at him. He realised with a start that she had a black eye and a clumsily stitched cut on her right cheek. "Jesus Ép, what happened to you?"  
"Nothing."  
"Seriously though, are you sure pro wrestling is the career for you?" he joked. If she wouldn't tell him how she got like that (and he knew from experience she wouldn't), he'd just have to cheer her up.  
"I don't know, try and fight me and find out" she snapped back.  
"If you insist, but I warn you, I'm tough" he teased, fake punching towards her face. It remained stony and irritable. "What, you scared or something? Don't want to fight the incredible Courfeyrac, strongest man alive, protector of the –"  
"Do you want something?" she asked sharply, stopping dead in her tracks and looking hard at him, a challenging eyebrow raised.  
"Sorry, I was just… trying to cheer you up, I guess." He grinned at her; the grin that usually got him out of trouble, especially with girls. And he'd be lying if he said he wasn't keen to win this particular girl over. He'd only known her a few weeks – she never went to college parties; Cosette's birthday party had been an exception because the two of them were roommates – but she'd definitely turned his head. The girl was stunning: tanned, slender frame, long legs, beautiful long hair, big, deep brown eyes that seemed to sparkle in the light, and those _dimples_… Grantaire had joked she was the female Enjolras – impossibly beautiful, and of course, completely unattainable. This sounded to Courfeyrac like a challenge. True, she hadn't responded to the same tricks that the other girls did (which was definitely a first). But it was really only a matter of time.

"Well, I've had an absolute bitch of a day - made worse, by the way, by the fact that I had a shit night last night in which I ended up looking like Sylvester fucking Stallone – and I'm so very _not _in the mood for your shitty jokes, so can you maybe take it somewhere else please? Thanks." She took off again, walking even faster than before. He jogged to get in front of her, then put a hand on each of her shoulders to stop her.  
"Woah, woah, woah… ok, I'm sorry, not the time for jokes." She looked up at him, expression slightly softer. He decided to push his luck. "Let me make it up to you, come for a drink with me tonight."  
She seemed confused, and a little taken aback. "What?"  
"A drink, with me. I'll pick you up around 8?" He smiled at her, the crooked one that every girl on campus swooned at.  
"Are you serious?" Éponine appeared genuinely dumbfounded. Bless, he'd surprised her – she wasn't expecting to be so lucky. A common response.  
"Completely. Come on, one drink!"  
She laughed quietly and shook her head. "You're unbelievable" she scoffed, before ducking her shoulders out of his hands and storming past him.  
_Huh?! _He jogged up to her again, but this time she didn't stop when he got in front of her, so he had to continue walking backwards to keep up. "What?"  
"I genuinely cannot actually believe you're hitting on me right now."  
"Why not, you're gorgeous!?"  
She scoffed, outraged. "Not because I don't think I'm good enough for you, asshole, because I didn't think even _you _would be so boneheaded as to try and grab me for a quick shag today, of all days!"  
He grinned again "I only suggested a drink, but if that's what you'd rather…"  
"No it's not what I'd fucking rather! I'd _rather_ you pissed off and left me alone!" she sped up to pass him, and he decided not to try and keep up.  
"So 8 o'clock, yeah?" he called.  
She turned around but didn't stop, incredulity written all over your face. "No!"  
Courfeyrac was not used to failure, and he sure as hell didn't like losing. He felt the determination set in as she sashayed away from him. "I'm going to keep asking until you say yes!" he shouted after her.  
"I won't!" she yelled back, not even turning around this time.

_Yeah, you will _he thought with friendly determination. Smiling to himself, he continued on his way home, plotting his next move as he went.


	2. Attempt 2

ATTEMPT #2

Courfeyrac wasn't one to hang around, so he tried again the next time he saw her. It was a few days later, in the library. He watched her for an hour or so, trying to gauge her mood; the first attempt had been ill-timed, he had decided. Clearly, a grumpy Éponine was not an Éponine likely to go out with him. She'd been diligently taking notes the whole time, sat alone at a table with just a small pile of books on her left and a can of diet Coke on her right… it was hard to tell _what _she was feeling, frankly. It was only when Jehan came in and tapped her shoulder that she even looked up and… SMILED! _GOTCHA! _He thought to himself. _A good mood!_

Almost as soon as Jehan left, she checked the time on her phone and pushed her hair back over her head. Then she stood up, picking up all but one of the books and making her way over to the shelf, clearly to put them back. He held still to watch her walk for a second; she was wearing the same figure-hugging skinny jeans as last time, this time with just a loose, red shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The warm colour of the shirt accentuated the tan of her skin, especially in the low light of the library, and he was reminded again why he was going to all this bother. _Damn._

She was studying English; he knew that, so it was no surprise when she headed for the literature shelves. Deciding the element of surprise might be helpful, he snuck up behind her as she put one of the books back on the shelf.  
"Jack Kerouac, eh?" he whispered in her ear.  
She jumped, turning her head sharply to see who it was, then rolling her eyes at his grin. "Yep." She whispered back as she moved along the shelf to replace the other books.  
He followed her. "You a big fan?"  
"I like him, yeah."  
"What's your favourite? Wait no, I'll guess… Visions of Cody?"  
"Nope."  
"Lonesome Traveller?"  
"Nope."  
"Fine, tell me."  
"On the Road."  
"I'm disappointed," he teased "I didn't think you'd be so mainstream."  
She turned to face him, eyebrow raised. "I don't like it because famous" she whispered at him, a challenge in every syllable. "I like it because it's a brilliantly written story of the fierce personal quest for belonging and meaning in and out of a repressive and conformist mainstream culture."  
"Wow."  
She turned away from him, apparently to go back to her desk, but he grabbed her arm. "Wait!" he hissed. She looked at his hand, and then up at his face, eyebrow still arched in outrage. "I like listening to you talk about books. Come out with me later, let's talk some more."  
"No!"  
"Coffee?"  
"NO!"  
"SHHHH!" The Librarian hissed from her desk, glaring in their direction. They nodded their apologies, and Éponine spoke again, this time in a lower whisper.  
"I'm _not _going to go out with you, Courfeyrac. I know you're not interested in books, you just want a quick lay and I'm not interested."  
"If I wanted a quick lay do you really think I'd come to the Ice Queen?"  
"Maybe you like a challenge, most guys do."  
"I'm not most guys."  
"Oh, but you very much are."  
"SHHHH!"  
"Sorry... look, I'm sure most girls would be swooning at your feet by now, but I'm not interested in guys right now, and I'm _especially _not interested in you. Please leave me alone."  
"Never" he grinned at her. Meeting his eyes incredulously, she turned away again with a sigh, then collected the last of her things and left the library without turning back.


	3. Attempts 3-7

ATTEMPTS #3–7

Over the course of several months, he tried again and again, with similar results to the first attempts. Courfeyrac found himself getting more and more frustrated… it had never been this hard before. He'd been turned down before, obviously… not often, but it had happened. The act of rejection usually turned him off, at least the second time, and he'd lose interest. 7 attempts was unheard of.

He found himself finding other girls less and less attractive, and even stopped going out with them altogether after attempt #5 – a particularly ill-thought-out attempt at a post-rugby match party. He'd been pretty wasted, not expecting her to be there, and garbled out a stupidly forward speech about how hot she was and how much he wanted to shag her in front of a fairly large group of people, who all whooped and cheered, encouraging her to "show him a good time". Giving him the sexiest look he'd ever seen, she'd sashayed up to him and unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders gently. She then leaned up and kissed him, running her hands over his hard-earned toned chest. Courfeyrac could hardly believe his luck: the kiss burned his lips like wildfire, her touch scorching its way across his skin and the drumbeat in his ears almost drowned out the catcalls of the crowd, and then suddenly EXTREME PAIN as she took both his nipples in her fingers and twisted with all her considerable might. He doubled over in pain as their audience cracked up laughing, jeering at him gleefully, and she sexily whispered "not in a million years, asshole" in his ear. While he was paralysed with shock and pain, she turned and left, hips swaying in a victory strut.  
Just before she was out of earshot, she shouted back "nice boner!"

Other girls just didn't interest him after that.

He'd never felt so frustrated.


	4. Attempt 4

ATTEMPT #8

This time, he was confident. It was her birthday and Cosette and Grantaire had insisted on throwing her a party, so he knew she'd be 1. There 2. In a good mood and 3. A little drunk. The perfect situation.

He arrived fashionably late, as usual, with his good friend Joly. Joly was a perpetually worried medical student with a thing about germs, and a weird three-way relationship with his best friend Bossuet and a fiery Italian business major called Musichetta. Joly's late afternoon lab session had given Courfeyrac the ideal excuse to turn up when the part was already in full swing.

He hugged his friends on arrival, greeting them with his usual warmth and big smile, and then looked around the room for Éponine. He spotted her almost immediately – she was perched on the arm of a sofa chatting to Bahorel, and she looked even more incredible than usual; her navy blue patterned lace dress had almost no back, and fitted to her slight curves with a black band around her tiny waist before flaring out to her mid-thigh. Her long, tanned legs -draped over Bahorel's knees - seemed to go on forever, but actually ended in sky-high black, thick-strapped heels. With her hair pinned up in a loose bun on top of her head, her wide smile – God, the _dimples _– was out for all to see, her radiant natural beauty accentuated only by a little eyeliner and mascara. _Wow _he thought to himself, temporarily stunned frozen. Combeferre noticed him staring and smirked, walking across the room to stand beside him.  
"I don't often see _you _stunned speechless" his friend joked, handing him a beer.  
"No" Courfeyrac agreed, taking it with a nod of thanks; his eyes never leaving Éponine.  
They stood in companionable silence for a while, Courfeyrac hardly moving, trying unsuccessfully not to stare, and Combeferre looking between Éponine and Courfeyrac with a growing grin. A few girls came over; girls he'd normally be _very _interested in, but the only response they got was polite conversation from Combeferre (while perfectly pleasant, this was not the response they were after) and they soon left them alone.

"Well shit" Ferre laughed after about 15 minutes of observation. "You've really got it bad, haven't you?"  
"What?"  
"For Éponine."  
Courfeyrac scoffed. "No."  
"Uh-huh…" the philosophy student replied, clearly unconvinced.  
"Come on Ferre, you know I don't "get it bad" for people."  
"No, not usually."  
"Not ever!"  
"That explains why you didn't even acknowledge those girls then."  
"I… they weren't my type."  
"They were leggy, barely dressed and half-cut, that's exactly your type."  
Courfeyrac had no answer. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish a few times, then admitted defeat, mumbling "touché."  
"Have you asked her out?"  
"SEVERAL TIMES."  
"She said no, obviously."  
"Why obv… yeah. Yeah she did."  
"Because you approached it like you always do." _Damn, he's good.  
_"…yeah."  
"Look, I know I'm in no position to give flirting advice, but… just try a more personal approach. She's not like your usual girls, so don't treat her like one. She's not the Ice Queen people think she is, but she_ is _smart, and tough as nails if she needs to be, so don't go in all guns blazing. Be a little vulnerable."  
Courfeyrac regarded his friend with a little surprise. "I will… thanks Ferre."  
"Don't mention it."

Courf smiled. He suddenly knew what he had to do. "I have to go and get something, I'll be right back… watch my beer?"  
"Sure" Combeferre replied, taking it from him. He turned to head for the door but was stopped by Ferre calling after him. "Courf?"  
He turned to look back at his friend. The philosopher's face was deadly serious. "Break her heart and I'll break your nose."  
There was nothing to say; Courfeyrac simply nodded and left.


	5. Non-Attempt 4

40 minutes later, he was back, present in hand and plan in head. Everyone was well away now, and hardly noticed him coming through the door. As he searched the kitchen, corridors and living room for her, a few girls tried to waylay him again, but he just asked if they'd seen Éponine; the result was invariably an irritable pout and shaken head. He began to worry that she'd left; or worse, headed for one of the bedrooms with someone else. It was her birthday, after all… _no, _he shook the unwelcome thought determinedly from his mind. _Definitely not._

The bedrooms were worth a search though. In the first one, he disturbed Bahorel and Jehan as they engaged in some pretty violent making out, and backed out quickly, closing the door behind him before he saw more than he wanted to. A stranger slept peacefully on the corridor floor, so he stole the guy's tie and hung it on the doorknob to try and give his friends some privacy.

The second bedroom was empty.

The third appeared at first glance to also be vacant, and he was just about to turn and leave when he saw her.

She was perched sideways on the window seat, looking out at the Paris skyline. She was leaning her back against one wall, with her bare feet resting against the other. Her arms were folded loosely against her chest and wisps of stray hair framed her face as she gazed out the window. The click of the door closing alerted her to his presence and she turned to face him, meeting his eyes briefly with a small smile before turning back to the window.

"Happy birthday" he said.  
"Thanks" she replied, her voice quiet.  
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her contemplatively in silence for a while, the only sound the muffled music from the party next door. After a few minutes, he decided to just go for it. _What have you got to lose? Other than_ her, _of course._

"Look, Éponine, I want to apologise… I've been a real prick recently. Since I met you, actually. Thinking about it, I've been a prick since way before I met you, but there's definitely been an… upward swing in prickishness since I met you."  
She turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised. It was, at first glance, the same defiant look of _'fuck off'_ that he was used to; but as her eyes met his he noticed a sparkle in her eyes that wasn't usually present. It wasn't so much _'fuck off' _as it was _'yep. Keep going asshole.'_

"I don't want you to think of me as some horny asshole, endlessly trying to shag you, so I this is my… peace offering I guess." He stood up and held out the present, arm extended towards her. She spun in her seat and unfolded her legs – _God, her legs – _to stand up and take it.

She eyed him suspiciously for a second before unwrapping it carefully, peeling the tape off one end and pulling the paper off in a smooth motion. It was a book. A fairly old book.

"Is this…?" she looked up him in surprise. He just nodded at it, encouraging her to investigate. She opened the front cover, eyes widening in shock as she took in the signature on the title page. "Oh my God. E, happy birthday sweetheart. Eternal love from… OH MY GOD."

He grinned. It was a signed, first edition of On the Road. And it was having exactly the effect he hoped it would.

"How did you…!? HOLY SHIT, it's a first edition! But… _E…_how did you? He's dead; he's been dead for years! _E…!_"  
"I'll be honest, the original E wasn't you, it was my Grandmother. But I didn't figure you'd mind too much."  
"No! Oh my God, thanks, Courf!" she laughed, stepping forward and standing on her tip-toes to hug him.  
"I'm glad you like it" he laughed, circling her gently with his arms. _Gently…_ He wasn't coming on to her. That was important. "Happy birthday. And… sorry, again."  
"Apology accepted!"

She let go of him and stood back, gazing at the book with wonder. Stroking it almost reverently, she suddenly held it out to him, face serious "I… I can't take this, Courf."  
"Why not?"  
"This must be worth _thousands_… how did you even…?"  
"It was my Grandmother's; they were friends back in the day. She was an Evelyn, hence E… she died and left it to me, so it's mine to give to you."  
"But… seriously, Courf… THOUSANDS."  
"Not nearly enough to apologise sufficiently for my dickishness."  
"You can't _buy _my forgiveness!"  
"I'm not trying to! It's also your birthday, and I couldn't think of a better present. I prefer Salinger anyway."  
"…I was going to forgive you anyway, for the record. After the apology. Before the book."  
"Thanks" he smiled.


	6. Non-Attempt 4 Continues

They were silent for a second or two, as the song next door changed. _All About Us _by He Is We and Owl City. Perfect dancing music.

_Take my hand  
I'll teach you to dance  
I'll spin you around  
Won't let you fall down._

"Will you dance with me?" he asked, on impulse.

_Would you let me lead?  
You can step on my feet._

She looked at him in surprise, eyes wary.

_Give it a try  
It'll be alright_

"Just dancing, I swear. You don't even have to admit it happened to anyone else after if you don't want. Just a dance."  
She smiled. "Ok."

_The room's hush-hush and now's our moment  
Take it in, feel it all and hold it  
Eyes on you, eyes on me  
We're doing this right_

Éponine placed the book gently on the window seat, and he stepped forward, taking her left hand and gently placing his on her waist. She gingerly placed her right hand on his shoulder. She was so much shorter than him she could only just reach.

_'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love  
Spotlight's shining. It's all about us  
It's oh, oh, all  
About uh, uh, us_

They danced slowly, moving around the small floor space in little circles.

_And every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I've never felt  
But it's all about us_

It was like they'd rehearsed it; movements perfectly in sync. She raised her eyes to meet his uncertainly, questioningly. He smiled at her; the crooked smile which he used to give away freely, but now reserved just for her.

_Suddenly I'm feeling brave  
Don't know what's got into me  
Why I feel this way  
Can we dance real slow?  
And can I hold you?  
Can I hold you close?_

She returned his smile, her lips turned upwards just enough so that her dimples appeared. He felt the urge to lean down and kiss those stupidly adorable dimples welling up inside him and squashed it determinedly. _Too much, too soon._

_The room's hush hush and now's our moment  
Take it in, feel it all and hold it  
Eyes on you, eyes on me  
We're doing this right_

Instead, he extended his arm and she spun under it, gracefully returning to his arms. Their eye contact broke for barely a second.

_'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love  
Spotlight's shining. It's all about us  
It's oh, oh, all  
About uh, uh, us  
And every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I've never felt  
But it's all about us_

_Do you hear that love? They're playing our song  
Do you think we're ready? Oh, I'm really feeling it  
Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?_

_Do you hear that love? They're playing our song  
Do you think we're ready? Oh, I'm really feeling it  
Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?_

_Do you hear that love? They're playing our song  
Do you think we're ready? Oh, I'm really feeling it  
Do you hear that love? Do you hear that love?_

He wasn't sure when they stopped moving, but he realised they were stood completely still, eyes locked, still in a loose hold like they were dancing. Their only movement was to breathe, their faces so close their breath mingled together. He could move his head just a few centimetres and he'd be kissing her.

_Lovers dance when they're feeling in love  
Spotlight's shining. It's all about us  
It's oh, oh, all  
Every heart in the room will melt  
This is a feeling I've never felt  
But it's all about us_

Did she want him to? She looked like she did; the sparkle was in her eyes, stronger and brighter this time. They were certainly both breathing quite heavily, but that might have been the dancing.

_'Cause lovers dance when they're feeling in love  
Spotlight's shining. It's all about us  
It's oh, oh, all (about us)  
Hey, hey, hey  
(And every heart in the room will melt)  
This is a feeling I've never felt  
But it's all, it's all about us_

He didn't want to ruin it, but he reallywanted to.

He _really _wanted to.


	7. Success Occurs From Non-Attempt 4

The song ended, and the spell broke just long enough for Courfeyrac's head to tell him it was best not to ruin it. So it was with regret that he smiled crookedly at her, and then stepped back.

"I should er… get back to the party, Grantaire'll be wondering where I am" he said, turning awkwardly away towards the door. "Happy birthday, again."

He almost reached the door - his hand was on the handle – when Éponine spoke.  
"What, that's it?"  
He stopped, confused. He turned to look back at her, eyebrow raised.  
"You aren't going to… you aren't hitting on me _at all?_" she looked thoroughly confused.  
"But… I thought… the apology. I didn't want to ruin it, I…"  
"MONTHS of_ endless_, shitty lines, and passes at getting into my knickers, and NOTHING?!" Her tone was almost annoyed.  
"I didn't just dance with you to get laid, I… respect you!"  
"You _respect _me?" Ok, definitely a little annoyed.  
"…yeah." It seemed like the right answer… it was the true one, at least.  
"Do you get _nothing _right the first time?"  
"I get plenty…! Wait… what?"  
"_That_, Courfeyrac, was the first real chance you had to kiss me, and you're worried about _Grantaire_!"  
"I…"  
"Well?!"  
"I didn't want you to think it was like a… scheme for a quick lay!"  
"Oh, fuck that!" she exclaimed. Before he was really sure what was happening, she walked quickly towards him and stood on her tiptoes; her right hand reached up to rest on the back of his neck, and she kissed him, hard.

He recovered quickly from the shock and responded with enthusiasm, letting go of the handle and placing his hands either side of her waist so he could pull her closer. Her body flush against his, their mouths moved slowly, deliberately, almost dancing together; it was like the kiss at the rugby party, but amplified thousands of times so that his entire body was on fire, the flames engulfing them both because he didn't even know any more where his body ended and Éponine's began. They barely stopped for air as the passion took over and everything became feverishly intense; their hands were everywhere at once, his shirt was on the floor and her hair was wild. One hand either side of his face, she leaned down again and broke the kiss; his head followed her to capture her swollen lips in his again, but she shook her head and took a step back, before meeting his eyes and pulling her dress off her shoulders, wiggling a little to get it over her hips, then letting it drop to the floor and stepping out of it. He could see in her eyes she was nervous, her hands hovering over certain areas; he realised with a start there were scars there. Her backless bra was a simple white one, trimmed with just the slightest bit of lace; her purple panties were the same. He took her hand and pulled her towards him because she was scared, and she was vulnerable, and she was so beautiful.

"You're beautiful" he whispered to her, and her eyes filled with tears as she kissed him.

He took his shoes and socks off with his feet, kicking them away without breaking the kiss while she unfastened his pants. She kissed her way down his chest as she leant down to pull them off, leaving them both just in their underwear. He walked backwards, pulling her onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. She giggled as she straddled his waist, leaning forward to passionately kiss him again. He leaned up, supporting both their weights on his arms, desperate for more contact with her soft, warm skin.

The passion built, and the kisses got more feverish; desperate, open-mouthed, wanting. She laughed at his incompetence in removing her bra – _there was no fastening, how was it even staying up?!_ –and helped him with a smile, before pushing him gently back down onto the bed and wiggling backwards to stand up again. For a horrible second he thought she was leaving, and was going to lean upwards to look, but then her hands pushed him back; calloused but soft and gentle, she pulled his pants down, disappeared for half a second, and then suddenly… _oh, God…_

She'd taken his entire length in her mouth, and the gentle but insistent sucking threatened to push him over the edge. When she pulled back her head, slowly releasing him, then teasing the end with her tongue, he knew he had to stop. "NOPE!" he exclaimed breathlessly, leaning upright to meet her amused, teasing and questioning eyes; her mouth was still around him and "ohhh God, ok, no time!" Reaching out, he pulled her forwards, flipping her over so she was underneath him. Courfeyrac moved down the bed, expecting to have to take her panties off, but they were already gone. Looking up at her, he saw she was grinning. "I'm an overachiever, they were gone ages ago" she half-laughed at him, her brown eyes teasing.

He laughed, then moved back up the bed to kiss her, pulling back to look into her eyes. He recited Shakespeare in his head to calm down; his body was screaming at him, but he had to be sure. "You're sure about this?" he whispered, one hand cupping her cheek.  
Éponine nodded. "I'm as surprised as you are" she deadpanned.  
He laughed loudly, and then kissed her hard, their exploring hands moving over each other as their legs tangled together. Hamlet was getting harder and harder to concentrate on.  
_And by opposing end them. To die, to sleep- No more-and by a sleep to say we end  
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks  
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep-  
To sleep-perchance to dream…_

His inner monologue was interrupted by Éponine, her breathless voice husky between kisses. "Not that I'm not – oOHH ok! – enjoying this… because… I am, but… are you going to actually get on with this any time soon?... because I don't think I can wait much longer and… you don't look like you can… either"

He agreed with her wholeheartedly, and positioned himself carefully at her opening. Then, his eyes locked on hers, he pushed his hips forward, sliding inside her with an explosion of bliss in his belly; she let out a little groan of pleasure and it seemed to send a shockwave through his entire body. When he was all the way in, he stopped, and resumed the mental Hamlet monologue to calm down as he gave her a chance to adjust to the feel of him. It took barely ten seconds but it felt like a lifetime before she wriggled her hips a little and he couldn't hold it any longer. Their bodies moved together perfectly; hot, sweaty breath mingled as their mouths captured each other's groans with kisses. He knew she was close, he was too; he kissed her hard, harder than any of the other times, increased the rhythm, and whispered to her that she was beautiful.

And that did it. She came undone underneath him, his name wrapped in the string of curses that fell from her lips. He kissed her again to muffle the little scream she couldn't hold back, as she sat up and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, forcing him deeper with her hips. And then it was suddenly him that was falling apart; he was vaguely aware of her smile through the sparkles in his vision, her kiss protecting the whispered prayer of ecstasy from the rest of the world:

_Éponine_

After barely summoning the energy to crawl under the covers they fell asleep, exhausted, in each other's arms. Their mingled sweat cooled on their bodies, wrapped closely together, her hair tickling his chin as they slept.

Their friends noticed they were gone, of course, but thought nothing of it; they were both adults, they could get themselves to their homes. They'd call in the morning.

Only Grantaire got the shock of his life, as the clock approached 4 and he helped with the clean-up. On Cosette's instruction opened the guest bedroom door to check for empty bottles, and instead found Courfeyrac and Éponine, buck-ass naked and wrapped up in a deep - _clearly_ post-sex – sleep. He didn't _think _it was an alcohol-based hallucination, but frankly, he was too drunk to be sure. So he closed the bedroom door behind him and returned to the kitchen. He'd find out in the morning.

They all would.


	8. Epilogue

_**Epilogue**_

Éponine and Courfeyrac woke up the next morning and grinned at each other, because they knew their feelings hadn't changed. It wasn't just the alcohol, or a quick shag in the heat of the moment… it was real.

They essentially lived together after that – one night in her room, one in his – for the rest of college. She graduated top of her English class, and he graduated top of his Musical Theatre class. One of his final pieces was a song called _The Luckiest, _which he planned to be the title song of a musical one day. He'd write the songs, Éponine'd write the book. The perfect team.

The dream came true, 10 years later, but before that, they danced to _The Luckiest _as their first dance at their wedding, surrounded by all their friends and loved ones.

After college, they moved to New York, sharing a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. It took a while, but soon Courfeyrac was lighting up Broadway: he was Roger, he was Prince Topher, Fiyero; he was the toast of the Great White Way. When _The Luckiest _finally opened, it won not 1, but _8 _Tonies, and ran non-stop for 15 years.

Éponine wrote endlessly, selling articles to the New York Times, to Time magazine, to anyone and everyone. She was best known for writing the book for _The Luckiest, _but she also became the world's leading expert on Jack Kerouac. Over the years, she was offered thousands and thousands of dollars for her copy of On the Road, but she never even considered selling it for a second.

They never stopped arguing with each other, but their home was a happy one, filled with laughter and love and a _lot _of sex. Because they were young and careless, this meant it was filled with children too, before long. Four of them; three boys and a girl. All four grew up to be happy and healthy and successful, and looked after their beloved parents in their old age brilliantly. They wanted for nothing.

Courfeyrac died first, in his sleep, aged 93. Éponine barely said a word for three days, her heart entirely shattered. Three days later, she passed away too, surrounded by her family. They were buried side by side in Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris, under one headstone. Their love story, written down by Éponine throughout her life, then finished by her daughter after her death, became one of the bestselling books ever written.

* * *

_I don't get many things right the first time  
In fact, I am told that a lot  
Now I know all the wrong turns  
The stumbles and falls brought me here_

_And where was I before the day  
That I first saw your lovely face?  
Now I see it everyday  
And I know that I am  
I am, I am the luckiest_

_What if I'd been born fifty years before you  
In a house on the street where you live?  
Maybe I'd be outside as you passed on your bike  
Would I know?_

_And in a wide sea of eyes  
I see one pair that I recognize  
And I know that I am  
I am, I am the luckiest_

_I love you more than I have  
Ever found a way to say to you_

_Next door, there's an old man who lived to his 90's  
And one day, passed away in his sleep  
And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days  
And passed away_

_I'm sorry, I know that's a strange way  
To tell you that I know we belong  
That I know that I am  
I am, I am the luckiest_

* * *

**All done! I really hope 1 you're still reading and 2 you enjoyed it**

**Please review, like I say, it's different to my usual and feedback is greatly appreciated!**

**It's also the first real smut I've ever written so feedback on that is especially appreciated**

**thanks! x**


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